


Safe Spaces

by MegLee06



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 19:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7814602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegLee06/pseuds/MegLee06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tornado, noun /tɔːˈneɪdəʊ/<br/>1.1 A person or thing characterized by violent or devastating action or emotion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Not many warnings for this one (besides one little cuss word, I believe). It ended up being a bit calmer than I first thought it would, but, well, that's how the muses work sometimes. Subtle side relationships running through this one. I hope you all enjoy this fic!

Wonshik could feel it starting again.

It always began to build around this time, that suffocating tension that accompanied promotions just around the corner and which always found a way to settle over the dorm like a net, trapping them inside. That was the only way to describe it, Wonshik thought, a trap. Because while this was what they longed for, it was also what they worried over. It was their job, their  _ dream _ , and it took a toll on them every time a comeback sat on the horizon, waiting for its release. Celebrity status, as grand as it was, was a bitch at times.

They were all overachievers, all trying to prove their worth and fearing they would be found lacking. Every time they prepared for a comeback, the questions started up once more, no louder than a whisper in each of their heads yet still just as powerful in affecting their moods.  _ Will the fans like their new concept? Will they perform well on broadcast? Will they be able to top what they have previously done? _ The what-ifs sat heavily on their chest, pressing down, making them stress over every detail. And it was expected. Stress would always be an inevitable side effect to fame, and to creation. There was no way around it, and while they had experienced it since they were younger, knew it would come around again and again, it never got any easier to handle. 

They all coped with it in different ways, of course. For Wonshik, it was throwing himself into the studio, into his lyrics notebook, anything to keep his mind distracted and his hands busy. For Sanghyuk, it was food, or particularly snacks at random times of the day. He would have small packages of food spread throughout the dorm, always in reach when he needed it. Hongbin took photos constantly. Taekwoon slept or played soccer. Jaehwan binged on movies and television shows. And Hakyeon cooked until they all complained of being fat.

But above all, they fought.

Most of the time the fights were over ridiculous, miniscule things. Like someone leaving their dirty dishes in the sink. Or someone forgetting wet towels on the floor of the bathroom. Small, tiny issues that could be fixed with small, tiny solutions, but which always turned into giant problems around this time.

They all knew it was the stress, too. They knew it moved through them, twisting and circling and winding them up until they couldn’t take it anymore. Jaehwan had jokingly called their comebacks “Tornado Season” once, because after a particularly bad fight that was what it had looked like. Their dorm had been a wreck, clothes and items thrown everywhere, with all of the members in the middle of it, dazed and unsure of how it ended up being such a disaster.

Wonshik thought it was an appropriate metaphor, comparing the stress to a tornado. It was certainly destructive. Definitely emotional. Wonshik also thought that, sometimes, it was not so much the stress, but the  _ person _ who became the metaphor. More often than not, that person was Hakyeon.

To be fair, they all had outbursts. There came a time where each of them would reach their breaking point and let loose, lashing out at whichever member was unfortunate enough to be close by. It just seemed that Hakyeon had more outbursts than most. He was always driven by his emotions and when he was under immense amounts of pressure, either from the label or the fans or from his own self-imposed standards as a leader, he became a ticking timebomb. It was only a matter of time before something triggered a release, and it was bound to be violent.

Wonshik was in the studio when Sanghyuk came to find him. He didn’t see him at first, occupied with the words he was attempting to capture in the pages of his notebook as they swam around his brain and letting the heavy bass music in his headphones drown everything else out. It wasn’t until he felt a hand of his shoulder that he realize he wasn’t alone anymore.

He looked up to see Sanghyuk, caught the way his mouth formed around the word  _ hyung _ , and figured this wasn’t the first time he had called out to him since entering the room, regardless of Wonshik’s lack of hearing it. He looked timid, as if nervous about interrupting Wonshik’s work, when in all honestly Wonshik had been writing the same four lines in different variations over and over again. When the rapper closed his notebook and took out his headphones to turn his attention to the maknae, Sanghyuk began to speak.

“We need your help. I think Hakyeon-hyung is breaking.”

Wonshik sighed. He had known it would happen sooner or later. Hakyeon had been rigid this morning, muscles completely taut with every movement. Wonshik had reached out to touch the leader as he passed by him on the way to breakfast, and it was like touching stone, when he knew how malleable Hakyeon could be under his fingers, how soft and flexible he could feel. Wonshik had a pretty good feeling it would be today that he broke, spilled out emotions and anger and frustration until someone could fill the holes back in and settle him down. That person, more often than not, was Wonshik.

“Where is he?” Wonshik asked, and Sanghyuk grimaced. 

“The kitchen. I think he’s baking some sort of cake.”

Wonshik snorted at the words, but nodded. He couldn’t say he was very surprised, though he hoped the cake wouldn’t suffer from Hakyeon’s agitation. “And the others?”

“The living room,” Sanghyuk said, tossing his head in that direction.

“Who did he snap at?” 

“Jaehwan-hyung, this time.”

Well, that would have been entertaining. Hakyeon and Jaehwan were known to bicker from time to time, and both were sharp-tongued enough to make it a dorm-wide event, on most occasions. Probably not at the moment, considering stress was eating away at their insides and making them all sensitive, but it was still a possibility. At least in his opinion. The members would have their own interpretations of entertainment, he was sure. He could tell just from looking at Sanghyuk that the maknae was not amused by the fighting. Even as snarky as Sanghyuk had gotten from years of friendship, confrontation was never his favorite thing. It must have been a pretty bad argument if he was this shaken about it. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Wonshik promised, and Sanghyuk visibly relaxed, nodding as Wonshik stood.

“Thanks, hyung.”

Wonshik only ruffled his hair as he passed, earning a good-natured groan. 

Jaehwan looked up at him as he entered the living room with Sanghyuk on his heels, the man’s expression one of a scolded dog as he huddled against Hongbin’s side on one end of the couch. Hongbin wasn’t paying him much attention at the moment, fiddling with his camera as Taekwoon leaned into the couch’s other arm, eyes on the television though Wonshik could tell he wasn’t truly watching. They all seemed tense, more so than usual at a time like this, and Wonshik slowed his steps.

“You alright?” Wonshik questioned, and Jaehwan scoffed.

“Like I would be devastated after a spat with Hakyeon,” he snorted, only to yelp when Taekwoon dug his toes into Jaehwan’s side. 

“Manners,” the older man mumbled, eyes sliding towards Jaehwan as Sanghyuk came to sit in the floor in front of him. “That mouth of yours is what got you into this mess in the first place. You should learn to control it.”

“Maybe you could tell that to Hakyeon- _ hyung _ , as well,” Jaehwan snarled, though the honorific was still added after the chiding. “I was perfectly justifiable in what I said to him, and I am not the only one at fault here.”

“No,” Hongbin agreed, lifting his eyes from the camera as he lightly bopped Jaehwan on the nose with one finger. “You were both saying what you thought was best, but you know how comebacks get everyone riled up. The two of you should steer clear of one another for a while, let this blow over.”

Jaehwan grumbled, but leaned further into the man’s space and fell silent, playing with the hem of his shirt. It was good enough for Taekwoon and Hongbin, who returned to their activities without another word. They all knew Jaehwan did not let go of fights so easily, liked to have the last word in every situation, but for now, at least, it seemed he would behave.

It made Wonshik that much more curious as to what was said. But he had learned, through years of practice, to let others tell him what was said and what went on, instead of fishing for information. The truth, typically, had to be volunteered. And right now, he was curious as to Hakyeon’s side of the story.

Wonshik continued on to the kitchen, and he nearly sighed when he caught sight of Hakyeon stirring milk and eggs into the batter, the leader clearly distressed and taking it out on whatever baked good he was creating. 

“Hyung?” Wonshik called out from the doorframe, watching as Hakyeon’s arm froze momentarily before he continued to stir. Wonshik cleared his throat and tried again.

“Hakyeon-hyung, what are you making?”

“I’m fine,” Hakyeon shot back, words bitten out in frustration, and Wonshik moved further into the kitchen, away from the others. He wanted Hakyeon to know it was just the two of them in the kitchen, only them. This was a safe space, and Wonshik intended to keep it that way. 

He closed the distance between them, reaching out to lay a hand on top of Hakyeon’s, bringing his stirring to a halt. He wanted to give Hakyeon something else to focus on, a distraction from his thoughts that cooking used to provide but was failing to do so now. Sometimes touch worked. 

“I didn’t ask that,” he said softly, and he could feel Hakyeon’s muscles straining, pulled tight under his hands. “What are you making?”

Hakyeon blew out a breath, refusing to lift his gaze from the bowl of batter. But he wasn’t pulling away. That was as good a sign as any.

“Vanilla cupcakes,” he answered finally, and Wonshik hummed. He stepped closer, until Hakyeon’s back was against his chest. Again, Hakyeon didn’t push him away, though Wonshik was certainly pushing his luck at the moment, knowing how upset Hakyeon was. He could feel the older man shaking, and his hand instinctively tightened around Hakyeon’s in what he hoped was an assurance. 

“Do you need help?” Wonshik asked quietly. Hakyeon bit his lip, hesitating, before nodding.

“Can you grab the pan out of the drawer?”

Wonshik did as he was told, moving away and letting Hakyeon have his space back. He’d crowd it again, later, after Hakyeon had settled a bit more, after he was sure Hakyeon wanted him there. Right now he could feel the leader needing the air, needing the room to breathe, and he would give him that. 

“What kind of icing?” Wonshik kept on, pulling the cupcake pan out and setting it on the counter near Hakyeon, before hopping up to sit beside it. Hakyeon looked at him with an annoyed expression, having always hated people sitting on the counters, but Wonshik only smiled brightly at him. 

“I was thinking chocolate,” Hakyeon replied, turning his attention back the the batter with a frown. “Or strawberry. I haven’t decided.”

“I’m sure whatever it is will be delicious,” Wonshik assured, and Hakyeon grunted in response.

For a moment they just coexisted, not exchanging words. Hakyeon went about pouring the batter into the pan, filling each hole equally, and Wonshik simply watched, kicking his foot a little bit to create a rhythm against the wooden cabinets beneath him. He didn’t pry, or interrogate, knowing Hakyeon would only clam up and resort to insults and tantrums if Wonshik pushed. It was better to let him start. So, Wonshik waited. 

Hakyeon didn’t make him wait long.

“I hate it when you do this,” Hakyeon started, putting the cupcakes in the oven and setting the timer on the microwave before turning to look at Wonshik with a pointed stare. It was a familiar one, one Wonshik had seen directed at him and the others multiple times before. It was one that was meant to be scolding, though Wonshik rarely heeded in in these situations.

“Do what?” Wonshik asked, though he had a pretty good feeling he knew where this was going.

“When you make me want to talk about what happened,” Hakyeon quipped immediately, and Wonshik shook his head. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he insisted, and Hakyeon growled tiredly.

“But I’m going to,” he shot back. “I always do. That’s why you are here.”

“I am here to help you bake cupcakes, hyung,” Wonshik said with a small smile, laying the innocent act on thick as he spoke.

“No, you aren’t,” Hakyeon huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s a load of shit.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because I blew up at Jaehwan and someone ratted me out,” Hakyeon said matter-of-factly, eyes daring Wonshik to deny it. “But before you say anything, Jaehwan deserved it.”

“I’m sure he did.”

“He was being a real  _ ass _ .”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“I mean, to sit there,” Hakyeon’s voice raised a bit, his hand flying up to gesture as he continued, and Wonshik knew he had him, “and tell me that it was  _ my _ fault that he had messed up today in practice is completely ridiculous.”

Ah, so that was it. Wonshik had wondered what it was that had driven Jaehwan to speak out of turn. Vocal practice would certainly do it, and Hakyeon was no better at holding his temper when it came to it. Both of them were fiercely passionate in their vocal practices, and a critique was never taken lightly.

“He told me I was  _ pitchy _ , of all things,” the leader said with an incredulous tone, “as if I haven’t been working my ass off on these songs for the past three months. It was completely disrespectful.”

“So what did you say to him?” Wonshik asked, and Hakyeon’s mouth snapped closed before he spoke again, a bit quieter. A bit more ashamed. Yet the way he raised his chin told Wonshik he wasn’t quite regretful of his actions. Not yet, at least.

“I told him that he was being a little brat and that he should learn his own notes before he said anything to me about mine. Because if anyone was out of tune, it was him.”

“Hyung,” Wonshik started playfully, turning his head to the side. 

“No, don’t  _ ‘hyung’ _ me,” Hakyeon said. “He was out of line.”

“Maybe,” Wonshik allowed calmly, “but it was probably meant to help, not hurt.”

“Well, he still shouldn’t have said anything,” Hakyeon argued, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not his place.  _ I _ am the leader. I am supposed to make sure we are on point. I am supposed to show that VIXX is at the top of our game. I have a duty to correct him.”

“But he can’t correct you?” Wonshik asked, and Hakyeon hesitated, questioning himself for a moment before deciding his answer.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t work that way,” Hakyeon spat, frustrated and angry all at once. “I do not need anyone else telling me how to do my job. I do not need someone to tell me I’m failing when I already -”

In an instant, his walls went up, and he cut himself off. He turned, bracing himself against the counters with his hands as he let his head fall, letting out a deep sigh. He didn’t have to finish his thought, because Wonshik knew it all too well, could finish it for him by now.

“When you were already telling yourself that?” Wonshik asked, and Hakyeon shrunk in on himself even more, recoiling as if Wonshik had thrown the words at him instead of said them. “Was that what you meant?”

“Go ahead,” Hakyeon murmured in way of an answer. “Tell me how I shouldn’t say things like that, how I shouldn’t sell myself short. Say it for the millionth time. But you’ll be wasting your breath.”

Wonshik didn’t say anything at first, just slid off the counter and stepped forward. Hakyeon didn’t flinch when he moved to touch him this time, used to the feeling of Wonshik’s hand sliding along the length of his arm, and he must have anticipated the way Wonshik would enclose him, for he leaned back into Wonshik unconsciously, letting him block the world out for a little while. Wonshik laid a kiss on the side of his neck; it was a soft press of the lips, barely there, but important. 

“You’re right,” Wonshik spoke, smothering the words against Hakyeon’s skin. “You shouldn’t say things like that, and you shouldn’t sell yourself short. But I don’t mind repeating myself, or saying it a million more times, either, because it’s not a waste of my time to do so.”

He set his chin on Hakyeon’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around Hakyeon’s slim waist, holding him firmly against him, and Hakyeon brought a hand up to lay over his forearm. 

“You are important,” Wonshik assured, sighing as he laid his head against Hakyeon’s, “and you are safe, here. I just want to make sure you know that.”

It was comfortable, quiet, and Wonshik just listened to Hakyeon breathe, felt the way his chest rose and fell. There was something more, Wonshik knew, something on Hakyeon’s mind that wouldn’t leave him alone.

“I can’t stop myself from doing this,” Hakyeon whispered then, his voice so fearful it made Wonshik’s heart hurt. He made the point to squeeze the older man a bit tighter, to make sure he knew he was still right there.

“I’m not asking you to,” Wonshik assured. “I know what stress does to you, and I know you can’t control it. But every time you tell yourself you are a failure, I’ll be here to tell you otherwise.”

Hakyeon gave a small laugh, melting further into his hold and Wonshik welcomed it, loving the feeling of Hakyeon giving in. He wanted to be the pillar, wanted to be the person Hakyeon could trust enough to let go around, and moments like these, as tense as they could be sometimes, were ones that stuck with him.

“I don’t know how you do that,” Hakyeon admitted, leaning his head back against Wonshik’s shoulder.

“Do what?”

“I don’t know how you are able to calm me down,” he admitted, “when I could have ripped everyone else to pieced a few minutes ago.” Wonshik grinned.

“It’s because you love me,” Wonshik responded in a sing-song voice, before blowing a raspberry into the side of Hakyeon’s neck, earning an unmanly squeal from the other. Hakyeon wrenched away from Wonshik’s grip, holding the side of his neck as he swatted at the other man’s chest.

“I don’t see why I do,” Hakyeon said with a playful glare, but it held less heat than before. It made Wonshik’s smile widened just a bit more. 

Hakyeon caught the look and smiled despite himself, before looking towards the living room with a sigh. “I guess I should go apologize to Jaehwan,” he mused. “I’m sure he’s sulking fiercely by now.”

“He is,” Wonshik chuckled, but nodded towards the oven, the timer reading only a few seconds left. “But cupcakes first. Those are more important right now.”

“Yes, priorities,” Hakyeon teased, grabbing the oven mit and moving towards the oven as the alarm dinged. All the while, he allowed Wonshik in his space, allowed him to run a hand along his back, down his arm, across his neck.

Already, Hakyeon was a bit more himself, a bit less cracked. It seemed that for now, the storm that had taken over his heart and mind had passed. Wonshik didn’t pretend that it would be over for good. Hakyeon still had to talk to Jaehwan, which was always a challenge when Jaehwan was pouting. And he still had to get through the last few days before the album finally dropped. They all did, as stressful as it was. 

But with the way Hakyeon was now smiling at him, nagging him to go grab the icing from the fridge - chocolate, he had decided - Wonshik knew that no matter how badly they all fought, they would get through it. Because at the end of the day, the stress would only be temporary, and they would have themselves and the members and all of the good that came with that. 

No, Wonshik thought to himself as he slung an arm around Hakyeon’s waist, pulling him close again despite the playful complaints from the other, nothing mattered more than this. 


End file.
